PORTFOLIO

Tuesday, 4 June 2019

Some transformations are quiet.

In my little garden on the first day of June I drew with ink and water and I noticed the corners and the carefully made piles of curated things, and the blooms.

"It has happened, the miracle has arrived, everything begins today, everything you touch is born; the new moon attended by two enormous stars; the sunny day fading a glow to exhilaration; all the paraphernalia of existence, all my sad companions of these last twenty years, the pots and pans in Mrs. Wurtle's kitchen, ribbons of streets, wilted geraniums, thin children's legs, all the world solicits me with joy, leaps at me electrically, claiming its birth at last." - Elizabeth Smart from By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept.

Lizzie Smart has got no chill, either.




We enjoyed this random buttercup so much we moved it to a pot.


Rusting things that will be made to serve. A hammock?

All found buried throughout our soil. I will do something with them at some point.







Random foglove that appeared on its own somehow. We let it be, waiting to find out what it was, and when the guests finally arrive... Ecstatic bliss.


Giant daisies always remind my of Alice daydreaming at the beginning of the Mary Blair designed Disney beauty.


"A messy desk is the mark of genius" is a lie I sing to myself and invest with belief.


Looking at you looking at me looking at you.

I added some layers to a couple of journals. I enjoy this stage. Endless potential. Much more exciting then finishing.


I cut the pages I made on this day and arranged the elements on the scanner bed. I worked a little bit with a cut-up method when I made them, seeing what images rose from my digital feed and responding to them with a brush pen filled with water and a palette with six wells and a bottle of chinese ink. The spontaneity and the unreliability of working so wetly was stimulating and pleasing. I have spent so long obsessing over the crispest lines, and I might have finally exhausted that particular tangent.







Crass. Sometimes only Crass.